


The Breath of the Lucky

by spookywoods



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curses, Humor, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-16 18:45:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookywoods/pseuds/spookywoods
Summary: Remus decides to answer a personal advert, and ends up on the run with a mysterious man who is not at all what he seems.





	The Breath of the Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:**[# 29](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GKFL2MbAbFWB1MTjq9fo8nOZMNlF-NF3JU_8wTJn4vo/edit)  
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
>  **Warnings:** Mentions of past emotional abuse in the Black household  
>  **Notes:** A million thanks to my beta, Kristina. I would not have been able to finish this without her. We stayed up late on many nights hashing out the details and when I decided to go wild and write another unplanned 10k for this, she supported my decision and was there every step of the way. Also many thanks to [keyflight790](http://keyflight790.tumblr.com) and RedHorse for reading through and giving great feedback. **And finally, thank you so much Dig for organising this fest! You have my immeasurable gratitude for the extensions and patience, and for all of your diligent, hard work.**

Remus stood on the ledge of a tall stone building, staring out into the bleak, stormy sky. The clouds laughed at him as their inky greys and blacks lit up across the horizon in fits of roaring splendor.

Only hours before, the sun had kissed his skin when he left the library, the warmth matching the newfound hope in his heart. Birds sang beautiful songs as he'd walked to the tea house just outside Diagon Alley, a confident skip in his step and an eager curiosity blooming within him. But it all changed the moment someone sat down across from him in Three Hounds Tea Room.

_Sirius Black._

Remus shook his head, bit his lip, and cast his eyes to the street below. If he were sensible, he would've stood up and walked out the moment he'd laid eyes on the man. But since meeting him, Remus had become possessed by some new sort of magic, a thrilling intensity he'd never known. And he'd spent the last year hunting monsters, curses, and all manner of Dark and dangerous things.

Remus couldn't put a finger on what had roped him in. Maybe it was the lure of Black's strangeness coupled with his brash confidence and tight trousers. Or perhaps his implicit trust in Remus despite having only known him for an afternoon. Remus gulped as he remembered the pull of Black's deep grey eyes. He remembered the things that stare did to his insides, and admittedly, what it did to his outsides as well. More notably, the surge of arousal that hit him between his legs from just a glance. From just a kiss. He'd been captured, tied up, threatened—and yet...Remus suffered his fate willingly. He'd vowed to help Sirius, and while he didn't have much to give, Remus would always have his word.

He stared down at the busy traffic on the road, noting the pedestrians making their way into shops and businesses without a care in the world. That could've been him—thoughtless and ignorant of the schemes and machinations of the powerful. He'd gone half his life thinking he was the monster everyone imagined, but now...

Now he knew who the real monsters were.

Remus pulled out his pocket watch, straining against the dim light to see the time. Sirius had told him to wait thirty minutes until the sun had fully set, but the shadows and dark storm clouds made it difficult to tell. Staring at the street below, Remus shook his head. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the doubts were streaming in. The thunder cracked, and Remus jumped. The wind ripped around him, and it reminded him of the moment he had first laid eyes on Sirius Black.

-/-

The warm afternoon breeze followed him in as he entered the Three Hounds Tea Room and settled at an empty table for two. Remus sat for a few minutes, debating whether or not he should stay. He picked at his worn tweed suit, pat down his hair, and fiddled with the items on the table, but he couldn't calm his insecurities.

Remus simply didn't date, and he certainly had never been to meet someone from a personal advertisement.

He'd spent years maintaining his mundane persona: a werewolf cast into a solitary life of research and isolation. His confinement only succeeded at cementing his detachment from the rest of the world. He'd become a social outcast, a grown man too afraid to hold a gaze for fear of being found out. He'd spent more than half his life catering to everyone's fears and hiding in the shadow of his own worst image of himself.

The few friends he had, he cherished. They checked in on him from time to time, but he found it hard to stay in their sphere for very long. There was always something separating him from everyone else, no matter how much they would try to pretend otherwise.  
Remus bit his lip and remembered the encounter he’d had in Hogsmeade almost a year before. He’d been waiting for a friend at the Three Broomsticks when the expected note of apology arrived explaining that she couldn’t make their date. As Remus went to leave, ducking his head in disappointment, he ran right into Albus Dumbledore.

The headmaster of Hogwarts invited him to stay, and Remus had accepted, feeling as if he had little choice in the matter. When Dumbledore asked why it had been so long since he’d seen Remus, he shrugged. How could he explain the sinking feeling he had everywhere he went, that he was a liability, a dark stain on society?

"You're not guilty of anything, Remus," Dumbledore had smiled. "Except perhaps of playing it safe. You have to let yourself step out into the world and make mistakes. It's when we learn from our missteps and decide new courses of action that we grow."

Dumbledore had discussed Remus' journal article _The Evolution and Creation of Monsters in Wizarding Britain_. He'd complimented him on his thesis, of which only four copies existed. He'd called it "well-crafted" and "a barrage on the misconceptions of mainstream wizarding folk."

"But I would be remiss if I did not encourage you to go out and get field experience," he'd added.

Remus had paled at the suggestion. "Sir, it's not something that wizarding society permits." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Werewolves aren't allowed to gallivant across the country for research."

Behind his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with a lighthearted fondness. He smiled at Remus.

"I don't see a werewolf. I see a man. And I'm positive not a single person—wizard or muggle—has ever accused you of _gallivanting_ anywhere. I'm sure those you are researching and writing about won't care. They will likely be more welcoming to a werewolf than a standard wizard."

"Maybe not the vampires," Remus smiled, and they laughed. For the first time in months, years even, Remus had felt at ease in his own skin.

"I can give you a research stipend," Dumbledore offered, and as Remus threw up his hands in immediate refusal, the headmaster added, "And give you a conditional offer of employment at Hogwarts when our current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor…well, when the position becomes available."

"Me? A professor at Hogwarts?" Remus felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

"I suspect with a bit of first-hand experience and some dirt under your nails, you'd make an excellent professor. I believe you are close friends with our world class potions mistress. She has expressed a willingness to make this new Wolfsbane Potion for you, should you accept the job." Dumbledore grabbed his shoulder. "I encourage you to see the world you've been writing about. Go out and live, Remus. Do something unexpected!"

If only Albus Dumbledore could see him now.

In a way, it was all Dumbledore's doing. Remus had started reading the _Prophet's_ Plenty of Plimpies adverts against his own better judgment on nights or mornings where he found himself holed up in some foreign town or countryside cottage. He'd begun researching the varied and complex nature of curses, from casted spells to blood curses to his very own lycanthropy.

As he waited for the safest times to conduct his research, his nerves and paranoia would surface, and to distract himself, he'd read some of the ridiculous Plimpies adverts. The section flashed it was for the _"Lovelorn, lascivious, or listless looking for love or liaisons, friendship or philandering, there's plenty of plimpies in the sea."_

Of course, in order to see them, any witch or wizard had to activate the page by casting a spell verifying their age and registering their wand signature with the service. It also enabled them the ability to reply. Remus had no intention of responding to anyone, he merely wished to read some of the more ridiculous ones and have a good laugh. He'd no idea he would read something that actually hit a nerve.

He'd been waiting to meet with a vampire in an old tavern in Bruges, someone who promised to be his guide in the ancient magical underground of the city. But she was late, undoubtedly because of the lack of cloud cover, and Remus had turned to his favorite guilty pleasure to pass the time.

After perusing through the missed connections, lost loves, and sexual proposals, he was pleasantly surprised to find something more poignant. Seriously Sensitive in Suffolk managed to get Remus' attention every few days with their wit and poetic appeals. But what had really caught his eye was the allusions they were also possibly suffering from lycanthropy.

 _If you feel so alone, it is because you made it that way._  
**A lone wolf howling at a Crescent Moon.**  
Loneliness is not a necessity. There will always be someone who wants what you have to offer.  
**Help is hard to find, but perhaps it can be found in unexpected places. Hope exists in the pages of a tome, in the kindness of a friend.**  
Let the sleeping dog lie, but only when the pads of his feet are silent. Return hope with trust.  
**No more lies -- only truths -- among friends. Answers are found. Safety is in truth. Truth brings transformation.**  
I long to have the safe embrace of a friend over tea.  
**All one has to do is ask.**

Remus couldn't shake the vague, poetic language, how it felt as if the writer had written it just for him. He’d followed it every day since Bruges, digesting each new, mysterious line added. The latest addition was an apparent summons, an appeal for a date in possession of an open mind and an honest heart.

Remus put down that morning's _Prophet_ and finished his tea before—unable to shake the odd sense of affinity it had given him—picking it up again and reading it half a dozen more times.

 _All one has to do is ask,_ he thought as he summoned his parchment and quill. Remus drafted his reply to the _Prophet_. All classifieds, when prompted, had automated meeting times and places. When the owl arrived with the message, Remus stood in front of the window shaking.

He opened the parchment.

_Half past four this afternoon, the Three Hounds._

-/-

The door to the tea room slammed open, a breeze blowing in. It brought with it a dense smoke and autumn's musk, the scent of dead leaves and the city's steam. Remus tilted his head as the hint of something else wafted in, a spicy blend of cedarwood and vetiver, alarmingly captivating and yet calming at the same time.

He followed his nose and caught sight of a black-cloaked figure rushing through the open door, shaking their cloak in a jittery dance like a wet dog. Remus sighed and stared into his oolong, a meager attempt at staying calm that failed with each passing minute. Ready to get up and leave, he nearly gasped when the Man in Black stole the open seat across from him.

Suddenly shrouded in that rich, heavenly scent, Remus couldn't help but sigh as he watched long, calloused fingers reach out from beneath the cloak and lower the hood, revealing an attractive, scowling man.

"You're—"

The man's blue eyes raked over Remus' face as he dragged out his words, and Remus resisted the urge to throw his hand over his scars and hide.

"—unexpected."

The Man in Black sent him a crooked grin, and almost against his will, Remus returned it with a smile. Something about his demeanor put Remus at ease. The man sat relaxed and yet also attentive somehow, one arm casually leaning on the table, the other pulled back, resting over the back of the chair. His thick black hair framed his face nicely, pushed behind his ears, falling in loose curls around his shoulders. He was undeniably handsome, even more so with his animated, piercing eyes.

"I'm Remus," was all he could bring himself to say in response to the man.

He swore a spark of recognition flashed in the man's grey eyes before he blinked and said, "I'm delighted to meet you, Remus." His gaze fell to Remus' lips before darting around the tea room. "I hope you came prepared," he said, his eyes scanning the room and the other patrons.

"Prepared?" Remus asked, suddenly filled with a scintillating mix of confusion and amusement.

The man raised an eyebrow. "To deal."

"To deal?"

"Right. You are charming, aren't you?" The Man in Black narrowed his eyes and threw up his hands, motioning at Remus. "This whole inquisitive professor thing is really pushing my buttons."

"Well, I—" Remus didn't quite know how to respond, so he decided to go with the truth. "I've just come from the library."

"Oh, the library." The man shot him a mischievous smirk. "I see."

Remus couldn't stop himself from smiling and replying with a playful dip of his head. "Do you?"

The Man in Black barked a laugh and licked his lips. "Well, obviously. How was _the library_?"

"It was unremarkable," Remus replied, thinking back to the dismal collection of texts on vampiric celebratory milestones.

"You look disappointed," the Man in Black observed. "I am _shocked_ , I tell you, _shocked_ the Wizarding Library of London is not the beacon of current and past knowledge of histories that it so claims."

Remus chuckled. "Well, not on the subject of vampire rituals, that's for certain."

The Man in Black stilled, sniffing the air, eyes shining in sharp discernment as they swept over Remus' body again. He licked his lips, the hint of a sly grin curving on them as he said in a low voice, "Might I ask what a werewolf is doing researching vampire parties? Thinking of crashing the next Blood Gala?"

Remus frowned, stunned into silence.

"I only ask," the man smiled, "because you lot are notoriously hard to play with." He wiggled his eyebrows. "But I'm always up for a challenge."

Finding it hard to speak, Remus' heart gave its best effort to pound its way out of his chest. He stared at the table, open-mouthed, desperate for something to say. He’d singled out the advert because of the allusions to lycanthropy, but hearing the man in front of him identify him, then playfully dismiss his curse, was another thing completely. The waitress swooped in and rescued him for a few moments, and the Man in Black proved to be charming, making small talk with the server.

After asking what her favorite item on the menu was, he promptly ordered it in addition to his sandwich. "The treacle tart sounds fantastic," he smiled up at her. "Be sure to add an extra dash of powdered sugar for me, love."

"And for you?" she asked Remus.

He stared up at her, unsure what she was asking.

"Dessert?"

"Oh, right," he fidgeted in his seat and glanced over at the pastry case, eyes falling on a delicious looking cake. Remus didn't usually indulge "A slice of chocolate biscuit cake, please."

The server departed the table and Remus decided to turn the focus on his date. He was somehow equally terrified and eager to know more about the man. "And where have you come from?"

"Where have I come from?" the man replied.

"Have you just come from work, or—?"

"Bloody hell, Remus," The Man in Black said, shaking his head. "You can just come out and ask it."

Remus frowned. "Ask what?"

The Man in Black leaned in and whispered, "If there are others."

"Others?" Remus furrowed his brow.

Incredulous, the man said, "You think you're the only one that wants this?"

Remus dropped his eyes to the table, unsure what the man meant. Suddenly, he felt as if he might've been mistaken about the nature of their meeting and the meaning of the advert.

"I—look, I've only just met you," he shook his head, unease at the dwindling decorum pooling in his stomach. He knew he was blushing, but he chanced another look at the man anyway. The Man in Black eyed Remus fondly. The look had a calming effect and gave Remus a dash of courage. "You haven't even told me your name."

"My name?"

"Yes, your name. So I can stop calling you _The Man in Black_ in my head," Remus smiled back at him. He let his eyes travel down the man’s tailored black suit, taking in the lovely fitted waistcoat and the golden pendant hanging around his neck shaped like a crescent moon. His cloak had been hiding a lithe, appealing frame beneath it, and _that_ realization sent a surge of something warm through Remus.

Noticing Remus' line of sight, the man tucked the pendant under the collar of his shirt and gave Remus a long stare. When he finally decided to speak, his voice was deep and alluring. "It's Sirius. Sirius Black."

Remus choked on his breath, and the man leaned in, grabbing his arm. His warm touch permeated through Remus' jacket, blooming on his skin. "Tell me, does my reputation precede me?"

"We've met before..." Remus stared back at him. Memories of his childhood flooded his vision, a timid and broken boy observing the antics of his boisterous housemates. "...when we were children."

The man closed his eyes and they darted around under the lids, almost as if he was searching for the truth in Remus' words. When he opened them, he seemed satisfied as he said, "Gryffindor?"

"That's right," Remus nodded. Sirius Black had occupied one of the four beds in his dormitory, had offered him casual friendship, laughed at his jokes, and stood by his side during the few tumultuous adolescent disputes that arose. By the end of their first year, they'd formed a clique with a few of their other housemates, and agreed to share letters over the summer holiday. "But you never answered my letters. You didn't return."

"My family sent me off to Durmstrang," Black replied flatly. "Turns out I was the first Black sorted outside of Slytherin House, and _that_ —coupled with my rebel nature," he winked, "and lack of regard for pureblood breeding and deportment—pushed my mother to resort to desperate measures." Black glanced around the tea room as a waitress approached, delivering Black's tea and both their sandwiches.

Once alone again, Remus caught Black staring at him, eyes discerning but coupled with a slight grin on his lips, his demeanor seemed lighthearted. And yet, somehow, Remus could swear it was as if Black kept one eye on him and one watching the rest of the room.

Remus decided to bring up the thought that had been weighing on him. "I thought you died in an accident."

"Stories of my death were widely exaggerated," Black grinned. A piece of cucumber stuck to his lip. He licked it into his mouth.

Remus thought it wild that this man was entertained by _published_ news of his own demise. He stumbled out his thoughts, "But your family—your brother—there was a memorial."

Black stared at something over Remus' shoulder. "I'm sure they wished I had died...listen, Remus? You came alone, right?"

"Of course I did—did you—wait, is this—" Remus' couldn't stop his eyes from widening as two or three scenarios flashed through his mind. Either Black was there to proposition him for a threesome, or he was there to kill him. Remus shook his head and let his rational mind take control. Surely Black was asking for perfectly normal reasons. There was no way he meant any harm. So he admitted, "I don't have experience with multiple partners, uh, at once. If that's what you mean."

"Partners?" Black furrowed his brow. His eyes danced between Remus' eyes and lips. "Oh, I see," Black finally said, realisation washing over his features. "With a mouth like _that_ ," his gaze dropped to Remus' lips again, "I find that hard to believe."

"A mouth—" Remus blushed.

"Remus," Black leaned in, inches from his face. "Can I ask you a question? I expect an honest answer."

"I've—" he wanted to say he'd been honest the entire time but merely nodded.

"Why did you answer the advert?"

"I—I felt a connection with you," he offered.

"A connection?" Black smiled, and Remus felt something warm waltzing through his chest, something unfamiliar.

"It felt like you wrote it just for me," Remus said, and he gave Black a heated look.

"Remus," Black began, but stopped and looked down into his lap. "In another time and place," he glanced up, eyes ripe with sincerity, "I would've written all the poetry in the world if it meant you'd look at me like you're looking at me now."

Remus licked his lips. "And how am I looking at you?"

Black sighed. "Like you want to know what's really inside me, but you can't decide if you want to sit and ask me a million questions or tear me apart with your teeth."

"That's fair," Remus laughed. They shared a look loaded with amusement and lust, and something electric surged through him.

"In another world," Black opened his coat and pulled out his wand. "I'd let you do both."

Remus frowned. "But in this one?"

After taking one last bite of his sandwich and downing the rest of his tea, Black grinned. "Raincheck? We can save it for the second date."

Black stood abruptly.

Remus shook his head, disappointment washing over him. "You're leaving?"

Smiling down at Remus, he said, "As one does when he's about to be accosted by Aurors." He pointed his wand at Remus and shouted, " _Expelliarmus!_ "

Remus ducked, ready to crawl under the table, but caught the blur of maroon robes out of the corner of his eye. Before he could give it a thought, he shouted the warning at Black. "Behind you!"

Black whirled around and cast a Stinging Jinx at the Auror, hitting her square in the chest, sending her flying. Another Auror ran forward, throwing a hex, but Black blocked it with ease. Remus watched his form, his demeanor, and could hardly believe how poised and calm he remained, even as two more Aurors apparated into the tea room. Remus couldn't make himself move as Black engaged them in a thrilling display of fantastic dueling. After a few exchanges of hexes and curses, the Aurors took cover behind the pastry counter.

"As far as ill-fated first dates go," Black knelt down and grabbed Remus' arm. "This is lining up to be the most gratifying yet disastrous one I've ever experienced." He pulled Remus up and kissed his cheek, then frowned at him. "I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, but it's for your protection."

Grabbing his cheek, Remus said, "I'm sorry, did you just—"

A commotion rang out behind them, and Black bolted up, wand out.

They turned in time to see three new figures steady themselves after apparating into the back of the room. At first, Remus thought they were Aurors. But their robes were black, and the crest on the left breast was unfamiliar.

One of the men in black robes strode forward. "Who's your partner, Padfoot?"

"Partner?" Black's grip on Remus' arm tightened, then softened again. "This is my hostage!"

The man kept taking steps toward them, and Remus thought he had to be out of his mind. When he finally stopped a few tables away, he cocked his head to the side and snorted. "Right."

Black raised his wand to Remus' neck. "I said he's my hostage. He's my curse-breaker, Griffstone."

"Please, Padfoot," the man said, his voice soaked in contempt. "You're only making this harder on yourself."

"No one moves!" Black pulled Remus toward the front of the shop. "No one follows us," he added, wandlessly opening the door and shoving Remus out into the street. "...Or I'll Avada myself and then him!"

He pulled Remus down the sidewalk and hissed, "Apparate us away."

"I'm sorry, are you mad?" Remus shook out of his grip and pulled out his wand.

"A bit," Black smiled. He grabbed Remus and before he could protest, Black disapparated them both.

When he got his footing, he glanced around. Black had taken them to some sort of warehouse. In the darkness, Remus could make out rows and rows of unfinished doors.

"This way," Black said, leading Remus down a row of large doors propped against work tables. "They'll be tracking my wand, so we need to leave."

"Black," Remus shook out of his warm grip and stopped. "Where are we? What just happened?"

"It's Sirius," he said.

"You were cornered by half a dozen Aurors, I'm not sure it gets more serious."

Black laughed. "No, _call_ me Sirius."

"Alright," Remus rolled his eyes, " _Sirius_ , am I your hostage?"

"No, of course not. Unless—" Sirius wiggled his eyebrows and continued, "—you'd like to be a hostage to my desires."

Remus sighed, "Right now, I would like some answers. My date from Plimpies just turned out to be a criminal and I'm questioning my judgment, sanity, and—" he felt the twinge of arousal spark between his legs as Sirius stared at him. "—overall mental faculties."

"Criminal?" Sirius laughed, " _Me_? A criminal!"

Remus eyed him suspiciously.

Sirius leaned against one of the doors. "Remus, I'm _one of them_. Although, I suppose I've gone a bit rogue."

"A bit rogue?" Remus repeated.

Shouts on the other side of the warehouse rang out and Sirius stood up. "There's no time to explain." He cast something under his breath and hit one of the doors with a sizzling blue spell that lit up the door, making it give off a soft glow. "Go through there."

"No," Remus shook his head.

"Remus, _please_."

" _Sirius_ , it's just a door."

"A door is never just a door."

"Actually, Sirius, most doors are just that—doors. That door is not even really a door yet, now is it?"

Sirius pulled Remus close to him and whispered, "Well, this door is something else. This door is a window."

"So now it's a window?" Remus couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"A thing can be two things," Sirius breathed against Remus' ear. He jolted away when the sound of footfalls echoed around them. "Listen to me. Don't trust these people. They don't follow protocol, and they'll do anything to get to me."

Remus didn't understand what was happening, and started to interject, "Sirius—"

But Sirius threw his hand up and clutched Remus' shoulder. "They don't care about you. They'll do whatever it takes."

"I'm not afraid of Ministry officials," Remus grabbed Sirius' hand, pulling it from his shoulder. He couldn't bring himself to let go and he gripped Sirius' rough fingers tightly. Remus shook his head, trying to make sense of what was happening. "I haven't done anything wrong."

Sirius took a step away and walked toward the glowing blue door. "I told you, these aren't your average Aurors. Merlin, Remus! You're a werewolf, they don't care about your rights!"

"What did you do?"

"There's no time, Remus!" Sirius took a step into the door, his leg disappearing through the bottom half of the wood surface. He gave Remus one last meaningful look before saying, "Be safe," and disappeared into the door.

Remus stared after him, and an unsettling feeling built up in his chest. A voice in his head kept urging him to disregard everything Sirius Black had said to him. But something else—something instinctive—convinced Remus to trust his words. Before he could give it a second thought, a group of Aurors surrounded him. They demanded he drop his wand. When he complied, they secured him and took him to a back office of the warehouse, where a particularly unpleasant woman tied him to a rickety chair. He recognised her as one of the Aurors Sirius had hit with a Stinging Hex.

"Wait here," she said. As if he could move.

After about fifteen minutes, a man in black Auror robes entered the room, the one Sirius had called Griffstone. Pulling up a chair and positioning it across from him, the man sat down and stared at Remus for an uncomfortable amount of time before finally breaking the silence.

"Do you know who I am?"

Remus nodded. "Griffstone."

He sneered, "That's _Head Maven_ Griffstone of the Ministry of Wider Magical Authority."

Remus stared down at the leather badge on his chest that read _MoWMA_. "You're not from the Ministry of Magic?"

Griffstone clenched his jaw, then replied, "We are...affiliated."

"What does that mean?" Remus asked. He took in the man's pale eyes as they cast a glare back at him.

"It means," Griffstone boasted, "We have jurisdiction here, and we are in control of the situation. We have control of you."

Remus lost what little trust he was going to give the man. "And what about Sirius Black?"

Griffstone laughed. "Oh, he told you his real name, did he? How quaint."

"I'm sorry, but what has he done? Why am I here? I'm—" Remus gulped. "—an innocent bystander."

"Tell me, Mister Lupin, why you circled _this_ classified advertisement in today's _Daily Prophet_." Griffstone reached into his robes and pulled out a copy of the paper.

 _His_ copy—the one he'd left folded on his kitchen table that morning.

Remus couldn't think of a response. "I—"

Griffstone began circling him. "Why did you sit with a deranged stranger, one who apparently held you hostage for close to twenty minutes before our team opened wands on him?"

"Well—"

"Isn't it true, Mister Lupin—that you've been traveling around the country, researching cursed objects, possibly in the hopes of attaining The Breath of the Lucky for yourself?"

"What—now wait a moment!" Remus shouted. He didn't quite understand what Griffstone was implying but knew it was sinister.

Returning to his seat, Griffstone sat and crossed his arms, looking quite pleased with himself.

"It's true," Remus admitted, "I circled the ad this morning. I found it sweet and poetic. I suppose I'm guilty of thinking something listed as a personal advertisement was, in fact, a personal advertisement and not whatever _this_ is." When Griffstone narrowed his eyes, Remus added, "And I sat with him for twenty minutes because I thought he was the author of the ad, someone looking to meet another like-minded individual."

Griffstone let out a cruel, chilling laugh and Remus shivered. "You thought he was there to fuck _you_?" He wrinkled his nose and added, "A werewolf?"

Remus smiled, showing his teeth. "Shocking as it may seem, Maven Griffstone, there are people who would go out of their way to have relations with my kind."

"Yes, I am aware. They're called tailchasers," he frowned. "It doesn't surprise me one bit that Maven Padfoot would choose to dally with such—"

"Sir?" The Auror who tied Remus to the chair burst into the room.

"What is it?" Griffstone spat but didn't take his eyes off of Remus.

"It's Padfoot," she breathed, chest heaving.

Griffstone snapped his head in the direction of the door. "Here?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean, _sort of_?" He went to the door and glanced out of the office just as what sounded like dozens of dogs howling reverberated through the warehouse.

Griffstone rushed out of the room. Once alone, Remus struggled to get out of his bindings. Waves of unease washed over him as shouts and screams and barks and howls echoed around the walls of the office for several minutes. He had no idea what to make of it until a blur of black fur burst through the door and a large, scruffy dog rushed to his side. He flinched as it approached, and closed his eyes when it lunged behind him, going for his hands.

But instead of attacking him, the dog licked his hand and then tore through the bindings with its teeth. Remus rubbed his wrists as the oversized mutt sat in front of him and stared directly into his eyes.

"Thank you," Remus said, unsure of what he was dealing with. The dog jolted forward and put his head on Remus' lap before heading toward the door. He turned in a circle and then glanced back at Remus. "You want me to follow you?" Remus raised his eyebrow and then rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen today," he muttered as he stood up and made for the open door.

The dog led him into the warehouse, around aisles of work tools and raw materials, past scenes of dozens of other dogs terrorizing the Aurors. They rushed by Griffstone and the lady Auror cornered by a group of gangly terriers, and Remus summoned his wand from the woman's pocket. As soon as it hit his hand, she met his eyes and cast " _Stupefy!_ "

He hadn't had time to blink, let alone block it, and braced himself for the inevitable as he closed his eyes. After a deep breath, Remus opened them. The black dog lay prone on the ground in front of him, having taken the hit. Without a thought, Remus pointed his wand at the Auror and shouted, " _Incarcerous!_ "

Thick, brown ropes sprang from his wand and twisted around the woman with such force she fell to the ground. Without the second wand, Remus saw Griffstone struggle to ward off the pack of dogs. Their eyes met briefly, and Griffstone snarled before disapparating.

Remus gathered the large dog in his arms and carried him in the direction they'd been heading, searching for a way out, realizing they could be tracking his wand if he disapparated. He turned down a row of tall shelves housing hundreds of doorknobs and hinges, and out of the corner of his eye saw a faint glow of blue. He whipped around and took in the same door Sirius had walked through, now standing upright against a wall at the end of an aisle.

Without a second thought, Remus hauled the dog up closer to his body and threw himself through the glowing door, stumbling into a dark, dank space. Glancing around, they appeared to be in a garage of some sort.

He knelt down and gently slid the dog to the floor. Pointing his wand at its snout, he whispered, " _Rennervate_ ," and it sprang to life. It leaned over and licked his face, and that's when Remus saw it—the crescent moon pendant hanging from the collar around its neck. It was the same one Sirius had been wearing. Just as the realisation hit him, the dog turned around and transfigured into a man. Sirius turned back and grabbed Remus' shoulders.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked, his voice stricken with concern and a hint of uncharacteristic anger.

Remus shook his head and stared down at Sirius' arms outstretched between them. "Your Animagus is a big, black dog."

Sirius laughed. "Between my first and my last name, can you say you're surprised?"

"And you have—" Remus furrowed his brows "—a pack of wild dogs?"

"I _lead_ a pack of wild dogs. You never know when you might need them, and they're pretty organized for street mutts."

Remus sat back on his heels and Sirius let go of his shoulders. The absence of his warm touch sent shivers down his back, so Remus crossed his arms. "As interested as I am in the pack dynamics of feral dogs, I would rather get some answers."

"Right," Sirius stood and turned his back to Remus, his broad shoulders tense. "I suppose it's too much to ask for you to just trust me at this point."

Remus bolted up and closed the distance between them. He didn't mean to raise his voice as he exclaimed, "They were in my flat! In the time between the tea room and the warehouse, they'd searched my home, found out about my research, and somehow knew I was a werewolf."

"That's MoWMA for you," Sirius intoned.

"Who are you people?"

Sirius turned and faced him, his features were solemn, his eyes downcast. "You know, I'm not sure I know anymore." He cast an illumination spell at a nearby lantern and it lit the room in a soft, orange glow. Sirius walked over to a large metal cabinet and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky. Uncorking it, he took a swig and then said, "Every single moment of my life has been spent trying to escape something."

He offered Remus the bottle, but he declined. He wanted to be sober for whatever conversation they were about to have.

"First it was my family. Then it was my school," Sirius sighed and took another drink. "Then this organisation appeared and promised me freedom beyond my wildest dreams. At least, to someone caged, what MoWMA sold me sounded like freedom. But..."

"But?" Remus motioned for the bottle, deciding perhaps he did need a drink after all. The conversation was headed down a dark, unexpected path.

Sirius took a step toward him and handed him the bottle. He dug his thumb under his shirt collar and pulled out the crescent moon pendant that hung around his neck.

"But I traded one collar for another."

Remus shook his head. "I don't understand."

"This," Sirius grasped the pendant and held it up in the lantern light. The fine gold shone brightly, and Remus could see the glimmer of black amethyst sparkling along the inside of the crescent moon's curve. He admired its craftsmanship and recognised an old piece of fine wizarding jewelry when he saw one. Sirius frowned. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's exquisite," Remus nodded. He thought back to when he’d seen it hanging around the black dog's neck, finding it odd that it didn't transform with the rest of Sirius' clothing. "What is it?"

"The Breath of the Lucky," Sirius replied, letting it fall back loosely to his chest.

Remus blinked. " _That's_ what Griffstone wants."

Sirius spat, "It's what everyone wants!" He shook his head. "Everyone except me."

Tracking back to the exchange between Sirius and Griffstone at the Three Hounds, Remus asked, "Back at the tea room, when you told him I was your hostage…"

"I did that to protect you once I realized you weren't there to kill me."

"I got that," Remus offered him a smile. "But you also called me your curse-breaker."

Sirius grabbed the bottle back and took a long series of gulps. He wiped his mouth and met Remus' eyes. "This thing is a curse, Remus. It was some family heirloom that sat in a case for two centuries until dear old Mum decided she needed to get her son in line."

Taking a step forward, Remus reached out a hand, but Sirius turned away. Remus sighed. "I'm still not quite sure I understand."

"The Breath of the Lucky _helps_ one say pleasing and amicable things that others want to hear," Sirius bristled, his voice once again sparked with the hints of an unexpected fury. "It's a choke collar," he faced Remus and pursed his lips. "A way for them to control me."

"Sirius…"

Remus reached out. This time Sirius didn't turn away, allowing him to embrace him. Remus inhaled his warm, familiar scent and tried to keep his senses at bay while he shuffled through the mental catalogue of all the Dark pureblood artifacts he'd encountered in his studies. Then it hit him—what most of the family artifacts had in common. Blood magic. And then his mind drifted to another area of his studies—vampires. Compulsion magic.

_Until Death, I prize thee._

"You can't take it off," Remus whispered.

Sirius regarded him thoughtfully, then nodded. A stray curl fell down across his forehead. Remus reached up and with a tender touch brushed it aside.

"It's the last of its kind." Sirius licked his lips and stared at Remus' mouth. Glancing to the side of the room, he drank another sip of firewhisky and continued, "Until very recently, I haven't been able to find any information about how to take it off." Sirius looked back at him and smirked. "Apart from killing myself, of course."

Remus rolled his eyes. "So why are MoWMA after you?"

Sirius snorted. "It’s Griffstone’s little circle that’s after me. But I wasn’t sure until now. I’d imagine he’s found someone who wants to buy this damned thing. It could be the perfect tool for world domination.” He shook his head. “Imagine what its power could do in the wrong hands." He walked over to a work table and set the bottle down. Sirius leaned back and rested his elbows on the table. Remus' breath hitched as his eyes skirted over Sirius' attractive form stretched out before him. "They found out what it does and they want it." He scowled. "They want to study it. And with it, comes me. Dead or alive."

Remus licked his lips and then shook his head. He tried to distract himself from his body's increasing reaction to Sirius' presence, willing the beginning of his erection away by pacing across the floor. "How did they find out about it?"

Remus recognised the look of betrayal and disappointment on Sirius' face. He'd felt it every time those he cared about had dismissed or disowned him after finding out his secret.

"You trusted Griffstone?" Remus asked.

Nodding, Sirius bit his lip. Remus turned away as the sizzling mix of attraction and anger blistered him from the inside out.

"He'd been my friend at Durmstrang," Sirius explained. "We did everything together—roomed together, pulled pranks, became Animagi…" He gulped. "When I told him about the Breath of the Lucky, he did everything he could to help me try and break its curse. He scoured half of Eastern Europe looking for answers."

"You both joined the Ministry of Wider Magical Authority?" Remus asked.

Sirius pulled himself up to sit on the workbench and spread his legs. "I thought it would give me opportunities to find answers."

"And did you?" Before he registered what he was doing, Remus found himself stepping in and filling the space between Sirius' legs. He almost backed away until he saw the gleam of desire in Sirius' eyes and the curve of a smile on his parted lips.

"Did I what?"

Remus leaned closer as if reeled in on a line, unable to fight the pull of the man in front of him. "Did you find answers?"

Sirius grabbed the front of Remus' tweed suit and pulled him closer. When their lips almost touched, Remus' breath caught in his throat. Sirius reached up and traced a finger down the line of Remus' cheek, and Remus found the reverence of his touch intoxicating. His warm breath danced across Remus' skin as he whispered, "I found something better."

Just as he realized he was at the edge of something bigger than simple desire, Remus closed his eyes and took a step back. The voice of logic had crept into his head, only this time it was screaming _Put it back in your pants, Casanova_. No matter what happened next, he'd always have the memory of how Sirius had just looked at him.

"So," Remus started. "The Breath of the Lucky enables you to lie?"

Tilting his head, Sirius considered him for a moment and then replied, "Lie. Sugarcoat. Charm my way through any situation. It comes in handy when you're a covert operative."

Remus frowned. "So what you're saying is that since you sat down at the Three Hounds, you've only ever told me what a charmed necklace knew I wanted to hear?"

"No!" Sirius pushed off of the bench and shot Remus a pleading look. "Well, yes, I suppose that is accurate. But…" Remus narrowed his eyes. Sirius reached out and grabbed his hand. "As soon as I figured out you weren't there to kill me and steal this damned thing, I would've said anything to get you to see me again. Pendant, or no."

"Merlin, that should not be charming." Remus squeezed his hand.

Sirius shook his head. "I found ways around its power. It doesn't dictate everything I say, and it certainly doesn't affect the way I feel."

"And how do you feel?"

"Remus, as soon as I smelled you, I knew I would do anything to bury my face in your—"

"Okay," Remus sighed.

"Okay?" Sirius' eyes shone, wide and hopeful.

"I feel like there's something here between us," Remus smiled.

Sirius smirked. "Entirely too much distance and clothing, you mean?"

"However..." Remus ignored the flirting and crossed his arms. "I won't be able to trust you, or—trust this. Not until we get that necklace off."

"I've spent more than seventeen years trying to figure it out." Sirius kicked at the floor.

Remus laughed.

"What? That's funny to you, is it?"

"It's funny," Remus said, brow raised, "that someone who'd been laboriously researching the nature of curses for the past year mistook your advert and ended up liking the way you filled out your waistcoat."

Sirius' mouth dropped. "Fuck me."

Remus looked around the garage, wondering how they'd get back to his flat and be able to sift through his research. "Later," he smiled, and Sirius' face lit up. "First we need to get our hands on my research. They might still be watching my flat."

"I can’t believe you’re going to help me,” Sirius said.

“I can hardly believe it myself,” Remus answered. He was quickly trying to figure out the various sensations flooding his system. It was adventure, desire, hope, and purpose. And maybe, Remus suspected, he felt a sort of kinship with Sirius Black.

“I know a way we can get to your flat without them tracking us," Sirius offered. He walked over to a dusty curtain and pulled it aside, revealing a staircase that disappeared up into the darkness.

"It's not another _door_ , is it?" Remus asked.

"No, it's not a door," Sirius said. He led Remus up the stairs to a canopied rooftop.

Head still swimming with a million questions, Remus asked, "Why did Griffstone call you Padfoot?"

"It was my nickname after we found our Animagus forms," Sirius explained. "Until I figured out how to fight the pendant, being Padfoot was the only time I really felt free. When I had to go home, my mother made me attend countless pureblood events. She'd basically kidnap me and force me to sit through dinner parties or Thestral Polo matches, and I had no choice but to be a polite, charming, raging idiot. As soon as I'd get home, I'd become Padfoot. It got to the point where I couldn't sleep unless I was transfigured. The more time I spent as him, the less the pendant controlled me. After a few public outbursts, old Walburga kicked me out. She disowned me. I found out later, she had me legally declared dead."

Remus bit his lip.

Sirius groaned.

"What?"

"You're thinking something," Sirius guessed.

"I like it." Remus declared. "Padfoot. It suits you."

They walked out to the far corner of the covered area, the air creeping around them in slow, tenebrous gusts. Remus felt as if he should be cold, expecting the onslaught and discomfort one typically experiences when stepping out into the chill of the evening without a proper coat. But as they approached a massively oversized crate, Sirius turned and shot him a sly grin, animating his face in such a pleasant way it made Remus' heart pound.

Entranced, Remus watched as Sirius pushed up his sleeves, revealing tanned forearms, then reached up and felt around the top of the crate. He pulled down a crowbar, wedged it into the corner and forcefully pried open the container.

"Well, since you're joining my ranks now, you could use a codename."

Remus blinked himself out of his trance and then shrugged. "I'm no spy."

With one final push, the side of the crate fell open and crashed to the ground. Sirius threw the crowbar aside and clapped his hands together.

Remus peered inside. "Is that a Muggle bike?"

"It's a motorcycle," Sirius grinned.

"Forgive my ignorance, Sirius," Remus shook his head. "But shouldn't it be on the ground level?"

Sirius ducked into the crate and pulled the machine out by its front. "Muggles have found a way to make their ridiculous forms of travel quite thrilling!"

"Do I want to know why you have this on the roof?" Remus asked.

"Don't worry, you'll soon find out."

"That's what I was afraid you'd say."

Sirius threw a leg over the seat of the bike and stood over it, staring at Remus expectantly. "Do you trust me?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I trust that you'll be the death of me."

"Remus."

"I trust you," he said sincerely. Something heavy churned in his chest at the admittance.

"Then come on, Moony." Sirius reached out for his hand, and Remus took it. Helping him climb on, Sirius pulled Remus close as he saddled up behind him.

"Moony?" Remus whispered, tucking his head over Sirius' shoulder.

Sirius turned and his lips brushed Remus' cheek. "Too on the nose?"

Remus thought about it as he glanced at the darkening sky. He wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist and relished the warm connection of their bodies.

"No," he said just as Sirius hit a switch and the motorbike engine roared to life. "It's just right."

-/-

Growing up, Sirius loved flying. There was nothing else quite like it, soaring over the world with the wind in your hair, the precision and the agility of your body steering the path forward. Before he'd become an Animagus, Sirius took every opportunity he could to hop on a broom, just to steal a small bit of control. In the sky, there were no parents to appease, no blood prejudices to buy into, and no words to be spoken or lies to be told.

It was the closest he could get to freedom.

Hiding out in his cousin Andromeda's garage, he'd discovered a different path to freedom. Her muggle husband had cleaned out a place for Sirius to crash between missions, but he'd left behind an old, broken-down Muggle motorcycle.

When Sirius asked what it was, Ted had smiled, shaking his head. "That's a relic from my younger years, back when all I wanted to do was chase the freedom of the open road."

Sirius lay awake that night, Ted's words echoing in his head. _Chase the freedom…_ He realized that was all he'd ever known. Whether it was on a broom or on four legs, he'd been running and searching for any scrap of independence he could get. It always seemed within his reach, and yet the closer he'd get, the farther away it would actually be. So he set to work over those next few months, charming the blasted Muggle machine, creating a fusion of Muggle and magic technologies that served his one, true mission—to finally be free.

As he and Remus flew over Watford, Sirius couldn't shake the thought that he'd never been this close to finally achieving that dream. He'd found new information every now and then which sparked the flame of possibility. He'd chased leads across half the magical world, holding his spirits high enough to keep going forward. But there was something new, something different going on inside him. When Remus shifted behind him, pressing himself closer, Sirius leaned into the touch, hoping Remus felt the same comfort from their connection.

"You're so warm," Remus shouted in his ear as he clutched him tighter over the clamour of the engine and the bitter night air rushing around them.

Sirius gripped the bike handles and smiled.

He had no idea what he'd done to deserve the trust of someone like Remus, someone similarly afflicted with a curse but all the better for it. Inside his warm golden eyes, Sirius saw in Remus a storm of brazen confidence and cowering diffidence. It made him meek, and yet in possession of brutal honesty, hesitant and somehow thoughtlessly courageous. His trust felt like a special gift, his touch a divine atonement. Inhaling his scent was like coming home, but to no home he'd ever known.

It had been over for Sirius the minute he’d sat down at the Three Hounds. As soon as he was overcome with the fragrance of warm forest soil, cypress, and grass, all he’d wanted to do was get lost in the grace of Remus' long, lean form, and bury his head in that intoxicating scent. When he breathed it in, it felt like flying, like running at full speed, like chasing the stars and being swallowed up in the blanket of the night sky. With Remus, Sirius felt free.

They approached the roof of some offices a few blocks from Remus' flat. Sirius landed the bike with ease.

"You don't want to know how many landings I've bungled," he said as they dismounted. The immediate loss of Remus' body heat against his left him feeling cold and empty.

Remus shot him a knowing look. "I think I have a fairly good idea."

"So," Sirius licked his lips and walked to the edge of the building. The sun had almost set in the distance and a storm was blowing in from the south. "Tell me exactly what I need to grab."

"No," Remus replied. Sirius whipped around and started to protest, but Remus insisted, "I'm going with you."

Sirius shook his head. "Absolutely not. This is my problem, and it's my fault that you're in their line of sight. I will carry the risk."

Remus laughed. "I'm the one who answered your advert."

"Listen..." Sirius stepped toward him, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I was trained for this sort of thing. I can be in and out of there with no one the wiser." He glanced up and eyed Remus. "If you came with, all I'd be thinking about is you."

"I can take care of myself."

Sirius cocked his head. "Then promise to stay up here and wait for me."

They shared a heavy stare for a few moments until Remus nodded and explained how to get in and manoeuvre the layout of his flat. Then he described what Sirius needed to bring back. "There are two leatherbound journals in the second drawer of the desk in my bedroom. Grab them both."

"What's in the journals?" Sirius asked as he surveyed the entrance to Remus' building. There were no outward signs of surveillance, but he couldn’t cast any Probing Charms to check for spells. That worried him.

"One has my research from various sources on the blood ties of curses," he replied. "A lot of maledictus and lycanthrope theory, but I remember a few other cases from the ancient societies as well. The other has my notes on vampires."

Sirius cringed. "I'm not sure why that will be helpful for my situation."

Remus stepped forward and stood next to him, explaining, "Historically, their magic was rooted in compulsion, in the bending of casting magic to the will of the mind. While it might bleed into the realm of the Imperius, familiars and other servants of the vampires were often gifted rare, beautiful items…" He turned toward Sirius and leaned in, his voice deep in Sirius' ear. "These items changed their very nature. They turned their fear and disgust of blood-giving into pleasure, making them crave the very act that would kill them."

"Kinky," Sirius said with a wry smile.

On the subject of compulsion, he had the strong temptation to turn his head and look at Remus but knew the moment he moved, their lips would be inches apart. With the tacit feelings between them, locking eyes with Remus would test his his self-control. And Remus had explicitly stated that he wanted Sirius, but only after the pendant was gone. So Sirius focused on the chimneys, on how many steps he'd need to take to make it across the other buildings, on his breath clouding up the air in front of him—anything but the warm, wonderful man standing next to him.

"Two journals," he repeated back. "Anything else?"

"No," Remus sighed. "And don't poke around anywhere."

His hold on his control failed. Sirius turned to meet Remus' dark gaze, unable to contain his devious thoughts. He smirked, "And what have you got to hide? Please say leather. _Please_ say leather."

Remus narrowed his eyes. Sirius regarded the way his wavy hair blew in the breeze, the way the sky's dying light cast shadows on his face, kissing his scars and accentuating his lips. Before he could stop himself, Sirius had lifted his hand to cup Remus' face. His eyes fluttered at the touch, and Sirius closed the space between them.

The shock of it hit him like a lightning strike.

The moment their lips met, Sirius knew he was the world's biggest fraud. He might've spent more than half his life cursed, wearing The Breath of the Lucky, but his salvation was found in the breath of the man in his arms. He would say anything to stay in that moment forever.

It wasn't perfect. Their lips were wind-chapped and salty. A heat passed between them, a give and take, an exchange of addictive desire. It took Sirius back to moments of flight in his memories, to that feeling of freedom, soaring high over the world.

Remus rested his hands on Sirius' hips, urging them closer together. His fingers explored, pulling up Sirius' shirt until finding skin. His touch burned. Sirius shifted his stance, his desire dictating that he map as much of the other man as possible. So he slid his hands into Remus' hair and pulled, drawing a moan from him. The sound went straight to his cock and he fought the urge to push forward, to bury himself into the crook of Remus' neck and rut against him until they both found release. But he couldn't. Not now. Not yet.

He pulled away and bit his lip, trying to find any sensation that would distract him from the tension and arousal in his crotch.

"Remind me to invest in more leather," Remus said between panting breaths. “If it makes you kiss me like that.”

Sirius laughed and finally opened his eyes, allowing himself a look at the man who'd earned his devotion in a single afternoon. Remus's cheeks were flushed, his lips bruised, and his hair—reaching up, Sirius ran his fingers through Remus' dirty blond waves, attempting to tame the mess he'd made in the heat of their embrace.

"This was a mistake," he said, still trying to calm the spur of arousal flooding his system. Remus paled. Sirius threw up a hand and shook his head, correcting, "I meant we shouldn't have done that right before I'm off to…" He waved his arm in the direction of Remus' flat. "You've got me all distracted now," he said finally.

"I've never felt this way before," Remus confided, sending Sirius a soft smile.

"And how do you feel?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Part of me wants to run from you, throwing hexes over my shoulder."

Sirius grinned. "And the other part?"

"Let's not get distracted," Remus said, turning away. Sirius didn't miss the motion of Remus' hand, quickly reaching down and palming himself over his trousers.

"Right," he clapped his hands together. "I'm off then to get the _leather_ bound journals." They shared a look worth a thousand words, but all Sirius could bring himself to say was, "Thank you."

"Sirius—" Remus frowned. He hesitated but finally said, "Good luck."

-/-

Despite the ominous overtones, the best time to break into a house was during the onslaught of a storm. Rain and thunder added background noise and no one thought twice about the chimney damper clanging from the occasional gust of wind. The only problem was Sirius couldn't use his wand. His wandless magic was limited to the occasional Summoning Charm, Shield and Defensive Charms he'd learned to harness in the line of duty should he be disarmed. None of those spells would help him break into a flat. Luckily, Remus' neighbor, Mrs Philips, was out of town and her flat connected to Remus’ through a locked door.

Sirius made his way across the roof of the offices across the street from where they'd landed. _Goyle and Goyle_ the sign read, and luck was on his side! A wizarding firm! He lowered himself down to one of the top floor window sills and pressed his hand to the glass.

There was no warmth which meant it wasn't warded. He glanced inside at the empty office and then kicked the window in. Taking one last glance at Remus on the rooftop across the way, Sirius smirked then hurled himself inside.

The office smelled dusty, unused, and yet possessed the slightest hint of warm spices on the air. _Cinnamon_. Sirius fought the urge to sneeze and quickly shuffled out of the room and into the dimly lit hallway. Warm spices were used in monetary spells. That was old magic; pureblood magic. _Perfect,_ Sirius thought. They were bound to have a large, working Floo.

He stalked around until he found a massive fireplace in the meeting room at the end of the hall. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed some Floo powder and threw it into the oversized hearth.

"20 C Danvers Street, London," he said and stepped into the green flames.

Once inside Mrs Philips’ quaint, quiet flat, Sirius crept around until he found the locked door that connected her front room with Remus' dining space. He pulled Remus' key from his pocket, but before trying it, needed to make sure no one was lurking on the other side. He noisily stumbled over an ottoman on his way to a desk in the corner but found a quill and parchment to scribble a note on.

 _Dear Remus_ he wrote, _You're a very sweet man, but I implore you: please stop screaming serious over and over again at three in the morning or I will report you to the landlord. Whatever it is, it is not so grave as can't be dealt with at a more appropriate time. Thank you, your neighbor, Mrs Irene Philips_

Sirius folded up the note and slid it under the door. He knocked a few times and waited, face pressed to the ground, hoping to see any movement on the other side of the door. After a few minutes and no shadows or sounds, he stood and used the key to open the door.

It felt oddly intimate to creep into Remus' flat. Sirius peered around, taking in the comfortably situated furniture. In front of him stood the small dining table nestled against a large window overlooking the courtyard. A mug of tea and a stack of mail still spread out across the table, Sirius imagined Remus sitting there that morning, leaning back in the chair, a loose, shabby robe hanging untied and open over his bare chest. He walked to the other side and sat in the opposite chair.

He stared at the couch and the crowded bookshelves in the other room, eyes falling to the bright orange knitted blanket slung over the back of the sofa. Did Remus curl up and fall asleep there often? Perhaps he stayed up late and drifted off with a book on his chest. Sirius blinked. Had he always had a partiality for the academic type? Or was it just Remus?

Sirius closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar scent. It surrounded him. But in Remus' flat, it mixed with other smells, ordinary things from the day to day that Sirius tended to ignore. Things like the damp, dusty smell of books, or the bitter aroma of black tea and bergamot—all typical staples of any Englishman's home. Blissfully boring in every way. But when mixed with the intoxicating essence of Remus, trivial things came to life around him. Suddenly Sirius was inundated with thoughts and scenes of each and every mix of smells. Remus cooking pasta, Remus watering his house plant, and—

Lifting his nose, Sirius concentrated on the distant, cozy mix of sweat and cyprus. He put his hand on the table and stood, eager to follow it, but as he glanced down, an envelope on the table caught his eye. It was opened and addressed to R. Lupin from A. Dumbledore, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Without thinking, Sirius grabbed it and shoved it into his waistcoat pocket on his way to the bedroom.

Remus' room was clean and simple, with an unremarkable four poster bed, a desk, and an armoire. He knew he had little time, but all Sirius wanted to do was transfigure into Padfoot and roll around on the soft, grey comforter. Instead, he walked to the desk and knelt down, opening the second drawer.

His heart sank. There was only one journal.

"Looking for these?" Griff's voice rang from the door. Sirius quickly grabbed the remaining journal and shoved it into the waist of his trousers before turning around.

His best friend stood before him looking more ashen and fatigued than Sirius could ever remember seeing him. "You look like shite, Griff."

"Yeah," he snarled. "No thanks to you."

Sirius crossed his arms. "Forgive me, Griff. But when your best friend sells you out, you tend to stop caring whether or not he gets a good night's rest. Especially if he is betraying you for his own advancement."

Griff narrowed his eyes. "You have an odd grasp of the situation. You see," he stepped forward, "I'm here to bring in a rogue agent who—" he laughed, " _believe it or not_ , started working with a monster-specialist curse-breaker." Griff held up the journals and shook his head. "The evidence is quite damning that the furball you've been screwing wants to let in giants, vampires, and—"

"Don't," Sirius interrupted.

"Don't? What?"

"Why are you involving him in this?" Sirius asked. "He's done nothing."

Griff laughed. "You know it's not that simple, and Major Acts Division would kill for some of the intel he has on these fuckers." He opened one of the journals and flitted through the pages. "It says here _‘The best time of day to find the Grescarlark Giants asleep in their den is at forty minutes after high noon.'_ Sleeping giants, Pads! And there's more. He has research on vampire covens, werewolf packs, you name it." He wrinkled his nose. "Your lover sure gets around, doesn't he?"

Sirius pulled out his wand and scowled.

"Really, Sirius, put that away and come quietly," Griff said. "You haven't beaten me in a duel since school."

"I've never fought you in a real duel." Sirius spat, "We were supposed to be on the same side!"

Griff shrunk the journals, putting them in his coat pocket before raising his wand. "You don't think I came alone? I have a team of six surrounding the place. You won't make it two steps—"

" _Petrificus Totalus!_ " Remus' voice rang from outside the room.

Griff fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Remus rushed into the bedroom, jumping over Griff's prone form. He grabbed Sirius by the shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"I am now." Sirius smirked. "We have to go, there are others."

"I took care of them," Remus said, a grave look shadowing his features. Sirius' eyes widened and Remus clarified, "They're disarmed and bound."

Remembering the way Remus cast the Incarcerous Spell earlier that day, binding the woman who’d stunned him, Sirius keened, "Ropes! I should have been looking for ropes!"

Remus shot him a glare dripping with amusement and said, "Let's go."

Sirius grabbed the journals off of Griff's body and slapped his cheek. Griff's wide eyes stared out into space, unmoving. "Don't get up. We mutts can see ourselves out."

They disapparated to the roof across the way, then to the roof where they'd left the motorcycle. While they rushed to get situated on the bike, Sirius said, "I told you to wait here until dark and then leave without me."

"I thought about it," Remus smiled against his neck. He wrapped his arms around Sirius' waist and nestled closer to him on the seat. "But then I realised I'd been promised a second date."

"I can promise you a lot more than that," Sirius said, squeezing the arm wrapped around his waist.

He revved the engine and they took off into the bitter, stormy night. He switched on the bike's Warming Charm, letting himself relax into the cozy sanctuary of Remus' embrace. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when they stopped for a snack outside Manchester, but Remus looked weary. Eventually, he asked where they were going.

Sirius gulped. From his pocket, he pulled out the letter from the headmaster of Hogwarts. "Somewhere safe," he said.

Remus eyed the parchment and bit his lip.

"I assumed if you were in correspondence with him, he might be able to help you find cover until all this blows over," Sirius explained. He stared off into the distant lights of the city. He couldn't bring himself to say how much he needed Remus to stay safe.

"And? What…" Remus asked, the intonation of his voice cold and brittle, sending shivers across Sirius' skin. "You're going to run off and figure this out all on your own?"

"If I have to, yes!" Sirius turned and clenched his jaw, willing away any words he might regret. "You—" he stammered, "don't—"

"Understand?" Remus offered. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I think I understand more than you know. Even with the recent addition of the Wolfsbane Potion, there will always be the risk that someone gets hurt because of me." He straightened his back and stood taller, eyeing Sirius with a stern stare. "I’m tired of banishing myself to the shadows, giving up on things that I truly want just because I'm afraid something bad will happen."

Sirius nodded slowly, letting the words sink in. He and Remus had lived vastly different lives, and yet somehow shared a unique kinship.

"What I meant to say was, you don't have to do this alone, Sirius. And," Remus smiled. "Between the two or three times I've saved your skin, and the fact that I'm your best chance at getting that thing off without killing yourself, it's in your best interest that you keep me around."

"Oh, _you_ saved _me_?" Sirius raised a brow.

Remus bit his lip and looked down. "I think you'll find, Padfoot, that we saved each other."

He went from flirtatious to passionate in a matter of seconds. Sirius had never met anyone who could make him feel that way. When they flirted, it was light, blissful, skirting the promise of a fiery absolution. But beneath the heated glances and witty replies, something hushed was taking root, the beginnings of which hinted at things he knew all great love affairs were made of. No one had ever sunk into him so quickly, no one had ever brought him so close to feeling free.

Sirius surged forward and grabbed Remus by the lapels of his jacket, closing his eyes and pressing their lips together. This time there were no tentative moments of give and take. Sirius took what he wanted as Remus threw his arms around his neck, locking them together, giving Sirius unspoken permission to go farther. The press of their bodies together felt electric. With every movement, a shock of pleasure surged through him, and Sirius' dropped his hands to the waist of Remus' pants without thinking.

Remus stilled, and Sirius broke their kiss.

Panting, he brushed his thumb over Remus' jaw and made him look at him. "What's wrong, Moony?"

"Do you bring all your hostages to the hills of Tunstead and get handsy?" he said.

Resisting a sarcastic reply, Sirius answered, "This is a first for me."

Remus raised a brow.

"No! Really!" Sirius laughed.

"Well, I'm certain there are a thousand places warmer and more pleasant where this could be continued," Remus smiled. He took a step back and put a few inches between them, but left his arms lazily draped over Sirius' shoulders."Besides, I think I know the perfect place to hide out and figure out what to do next."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's called the Shrieking Shack," Remus grinned.

Sirius shook his head. "Sounds lovely."

-/-

Sirius could hardly believe it when Remus led him through the back door of the rickety, rundown home he claimed housed him during the full moons while he attended Hogwarts. "Here?" he'd asked, glancing around at the sharp nails and broken wood splinters sticking out from walls. Remus had explained that it hadn't been all that bad.

"I had a few people who helped me through it," he added, but then promptly changed the subject and suggested they sneak into the castle and raid the kitchens for food.

"Remus, that's positively mad!" Sirius barked. It pleased him to see Remus' face so relaxed. "Okay! Fine. Count me in if there's treacle tart."

After showing him the secret passage from the shack to the base of a large, fitful willow tree, Remus led them into the castle and down a series of passages to the kitchens. His demeanor completely changed as they padded down the stone halls, and Sirius began to suspect that Remus had more experience with clandestine situations than he had initially let on. He knew every creaky step, was friends with and had bribed every portrait, and to Sirius' utter shock, Remus pointed out three other entrances to secret passages on their way to the kitchens.

It was well after curfew, and yet as they crept closer, Sirius inhaled the delicious aroma of roasting ham and warm, sweet cinnamon. When they reached the large doors, Remus convinced the house-elf at the entrance to bring them a tray of meats and cheeses.

"And treacle tart!" Sirius hissed, leaning over Remus' shoulder.

Remus rolled his eyes but made the request with the elf.

A few minutes later, they'd found a small potions classroom with active, bubbling cauldrons that illuminated the space with a soft, dancing firelight. They sat and ate their food in silence. Sirius wanted to ask if Remus knew of any other places they could go unnoticed in the castle. Unsurprisingly, it was much warmer than the shack, and Sirius prefered the risk to freezing to death from the harsh Scottish frost.

"I might know a room," Remus whispered, leading them up and out of the dungeons. "Follow me."

"Remus Lupin!" came a woman's cry from the end of the hall.

Sirius turned in time to see Remus swept up in a blur of red hair and black robes. "Hello, Professor Evans—er, Potter."

She broke away from the embrace and swatted his chest. "It's _Lily_ , Remus, now really." She turned and narrowed her eyes at Sirius. "Is this the scoundrel that helped you rob The Three Hounds?"

"Scoundrel?" Sirius repeated, scandalized. The redhead levelled him with a glare.

Remus chuckled. "We didn't rob the place, Lily."

"The way I've heard it is you swept in and stole half the pastry case, fought off a dozen Aurors, and stormed out with your secret husband."

"Who's spinning it that way! Prongs?" Remus smiled.

She kept her sharp gaze fixed on Sirius. "Well?" she nudged him.

"It's true," Sirius shook his head, the weight of her intense stare simultaneously amusing and terrifying. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and said, "Remus loves chocolate more than he loves me, and it's becoming a problem."

"I like this one..." Lily Potter said to Remus and then smiled at Sirius. "What's your name handsome?"

He preened. "Sirius Black."

Her green eyes went theatrically wide. "Oh my," she whispered, her jaw clenching. She struggled but couldn't stop the hint of a mischievous grin from forming on her lips. "Well, this should be fun." She turned to Remus. "Aurors are waiting to speak with you in the Headmaster's office."

Sirius burst, "At this time of night?"

"The law never sleeps," she smirked.

Remus gulped and met Sirius' eyes.

"Don't worry," Lily said. "It's James and—and his new trainee."

She led them through the castle, up several changing staircases. Sirius felt winded by the onslaught of happy memories. Most of them were just a blur, snippets here and there of a time when he'd felt mostly carefree. He let Remus and Lily walk ahead and casually listened to their chatter back and forth.

When she asked Remus when he'd finally settle in and take the job, Sirius' ears perked up, curious to hear the reply.

"I'm not sure," Remus said. "It depends on how my research progresses."

"Oh please, you can find a way to balance teaching and research."

Remus laughed. "Says the woman who published sixteen new elixirs last year alone."

"Don't forget, I also had my second child," she touted.

"The world wasn't ready for another Potter," Remus said sarcastically. He pushed her shoulder gently. "But we're always in need of more people like you."

They stopped in front of a rather large gargoyle statue.

"Honey Marmalade," Lily uttered, and the statue stepped aside, revealing a staircase.

She ushered them forward. Sirius followed Remus up the stairs but turned around in time to catch Lily's grin before the statue stepped back in front of the archway.

"You were friends with these people, right?" Sirius asked, trying to hide the worry from his voice as it pooled in his stomach. He remembered the names, but who knew how someone would turn out when they were eleven. Merlin, he'd known Griff for more than half his life and he'd still been dangerously mistaken in his judgment. "I mean, you trust them?"

"I do," Remus affirmed, just as they made it to the top of the landing and stepped into a rather large, eclectically decorated office. Sirius recognised the man behind the large desk as Albus Dumbledore. His hair was longer and a shinier silver than he remembered, but Dumbledore still had that odd, knowing twinkle in his eyes. He stood and welcomed them inside.

"At last! We are joined by the men of the hour," he waved his hands at them. Sirius took a step closer, only noticing then that a man was leaning against a far bookshelf, scrutinizing him carefully. Tall and well built, he wore a brown jumper and khaki trousers. Sirius had been expecting crimson Auror robes. Beneath a mess of dark hair, the man peered between Remus and Sirius through round spectacles with calm, discerning eyes.

"Yes," he said, narrowing his eyes. "At last."

Sirius strode forward and held out his hand. "I'm Maven Padfoot with the Ministry of Wider Magical Authority and whatever trouble you think Remus is in, it's actually been a misunderstanding on the part of the Ministry."

"Yes, I know," the man in the jumper said. He glanced at Sirius' hand but didn't move. Instead, he fixed Remus with an intense stare. "Because the Remus Lupin I know would never aid and abet a murderous criminal."

"Murder?" Sirius faltered, dumbstruck at the sudden escalation of the accusations.

There was a rustle from the other side of the room, and then someone said, "The only things he's murdered were his good looks."

Sirius whipped his head around so fast, his vision blurred. On the other side of the room stood his younger brother, Regulus. And _he_ was wearing crimson Auror robes.

"Merlin, Sirius," Reg grinned. "What have you done to yourself? You look like you've been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs."

Sirius quickly gathered his composure and smiled. "You should see the other guy."

As they approached each other, Sirius eyed him warily. It was a moment of uncertainty until Regulus stepped forward and pulled Sirius into his embrace for the first time in over twelve years. It was an odd feeling to be in the presence of someone he'd dismissed from his life.

Sirius had struggled to bury his past, remembering how painful it had been to endure the abuse of his parents, but also the pain and betrayal he'd experienced when Regulus sided with them. The reality of the man in front of him, a grown-up person so far from the little brother he'd left behind, made Sirius realise how selfish he had been all those years ago. Sirius had been a child, and he didn't deserve what happened to him. But Regulus was just the same, a scrawny boy who'd sat in silent fear while Walburga pelted Sirius with abuses.

"Sirius Black," Dumbledore said as Regulus pulled away. Sirius turned to the headmaster. "Welcome back to Hogwarts."

"Thank you, sir," he replied.

"So that's it then?" the dark haired man said, a flare of annoyance saturating his words. "We hug and welcome him back and ignore the eight separate warrants issued for his arrest?"

Sirius huffed. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Deputy Head Auror James Potter," the man replied.

Remus stepped forward. "James."

Potter huffed, "Remus."

"If you let me explain, we can get this sorted out."

"You can't _'sort out'_ eight warrants!" Potter cried.

Sirius leaned into their line of sight. "Actually, you can. Or at least," he smirked. "I can."

Potter pursed his lips and took a step toward Sirius. "You can't do anything right now, Black. You're lucky I don't bind you right here and take you in."

"Apologies, mate," Sirius threw his wand up and took a defensive stance. He grinned, "But the only one who'll be _binding_ me is Remus, and I'm not sure you want to stick around for what that entails." He narrowed his eyes and added with a wink, "Unless I've misjudged you."

"James," Dumbledore said. "Sirius. Let's not allow our tempers to stoke the fire of this conflict. I believe if we allow Remus to give his explanation of events, we might be able to move forward without the use of wands." He smiled at Sirius. " _Or rope_."

Sirius stepped back and lowered his wand, suddenly more intrigued by Dumbledore's thrilling wit than antagonising Potter. Regulus offered to stay with Sirius while Dumbledore and Potter talked to Remus. As he followed his brother to leave the room, Sirius shot Remus one last look. They shared a smile, and for the first time in quite a while, even in escalating chaos, Sirius felt as if everything would be alright.

"So you're an Auror trainee?" Sirius said, bumping shoulders with Regulus as they walked down the hallway outside Dumbledore's office. The last thing he’d heard as they exited the office was Dumbledore agreeing with Potter that Remus should tell them his version of events without the _‘Renegade breathing down his neck.'_

Sirius rather liked being called a renegade.

Regulus snorted. "So, you're a covert operative for a shady multinational wizarding organisation?"

Sirius laughed, "They aren't so bad."

His brother offered him a doubtful shrug.

"The Ministry gave me a place to go. They showed me I had a purpose when I thought I had nothing left to offer the world," Sirius explained. He kept his gaze glued to the floor. "They accepted me for who I was." Sighing, Sirius chanced a look at Regulus. “Or at least, that’s how it felt for a long time.”

His brother's long, black hair was tied in a low ponytail at the base of his neck. Every strand of hair was in place, perfectly groomed to accentuate his long, aristocratic posture. Sirius' own hair was wild, natural, curling and falling where it pleased. Regulus managed to inherit perfect olive skin from their paternal grandfather. That, coupled with the piercing Black grey eyes, made him an incredibly striking figure.

Although he was only in his early twenties, he carried a weariness and wisdom that aged him beyond his years. Sirius had spent a great deal of time figuring out how to read people. Their bodies told him about their lives without him having to ask a single question. Sometimes he turned it off, sometimes he stopped himself from analyzing and instead made conversation.

But with Regulus, he had too many questions and lacked the courage to ask them. Regulus remained open, his body language showing Sirius a genuine excitement at seeing his brother again. It also told Sirius that Regulus had suffered something brutal. Reg walked with the barest hint of a limp, a slight hitch on his right side that one would never see unless they knew what to look for. His demeanor, his movements, the way he glanced at each and every doorway in the hall and the way his eyes scrutinized his surroundings told Sirius one of two things: either Regulus was the most perceptive Auror trainee in centuries, or he'd been through something traumatic.

Something had happened to Regulus. Something grave. And the sudden guilt that pooled in his stomach made Sirius sick.

"But enough about me," he said, trying to steer his thoughts to something entirely more prudent. "Reg, tell me how you've been! Any special someone waiting for you at home? How are the folks?"

"Dead," Regulus answered flatly. "You knew that, though? Didn't you?"

Sirius sighed. "I'd been undercover in Belgrade for months when they tried to tell me about father." He crossed his arms. "I told them it wasn't worth the trouble to get me the message. I think after that, they understood." He shrugged. "I've been on and off missions for so long, Merlin, I was in Brazil for two years. It isn't exactly easy finding any news about England when you're cozying up to the Amazonian wizard cartel. Andromeda might have hinted at Mum's death in her letters but—honestly—" He met his brother's grey eyes. "I didn't want to know."

Regulus hesitated, but raised his brow. "And me? What about me?"

"I had to partition that part of my life! That included you!" Sirius shouted, the guilt drowning him in emotions and thoughts he didn't want to face. "Do you think it was easy?" He grabbed the necklace from around his neck and raised it up, shining it in his brother's face. "You saw what they did to me. Even in death, they're still controlling my life! _This_ blasted thing is the entire reason I'm here."

"The Breath of the Lucky?" Regulus whispered, eyes wide in shock. "I thought...you're...how…"

Sirius let out a malicious laugh. "I've found ways around its power. But I'm cursed to wear it until death." He threw up his hands, "And as illustrated by recent events, someone wants to bring that about, take the necklace and use it for their own personal gain."

He watched as Regulus eyed the crescent moon pendant with shocking reverence. Sirius took a step back.

Regulus leaned toward him, still staring at the necklace. "It's different than I remember."

"Why don't you take a step back, brother."

After blinking several times, Regulus straightened his back and grinned. His gleeful expression unnerved Sirius and he had the sudden worry that maybe he'd misjudged his brother's intentions.

"My apologies," Regulus smiled as if sensing his unease. "Just a bit of a hobby of mine...figuring out old things and the like."

"Well this one is more trouble than it's worth," Sirius muttered. He spent the next few minutes explaining the nature of Griffstone's betrayal, that he'd been on the run for weeks trying to figure out who was after him. "Now that I know it's Griff—"

Regulus interrupted, "But what about Lupin?"

"Remus?" Sirius said. "He's not mixed up in all this."

"Several reports would argue the contrary," Regulus answered. "How long have you two been together?"

Sirius's chest ached as he replied, "We aren't—we're not—"

His brother raised a brow. "You sure about that?"

"We just met this afternoon," Sirius clarified. "But," he licked his lips, "I care about him."

"I can't decide what's more shocking," Regulus laughed. "That you're already head over heels for the bloke or the fact that Dumbledore acknowledged and added to your bondage joke."

Sirius schooled his face neutral. "Who was joking?"

They burst out laughing and Sirius thought perhaps the weight of their past might ease over time. As Regulus told him about his transition from an underworld informant to Auror trainee, Sirius realized his brother had been forced to live with both of their choices. Regulus had risen to embody the ideals of their family, joining ranks within Dark, prejudiced groups.

"I knew I was just going through the motions," he explained. "I knew one day I would be tested and...when that day came…"

"You finally knew what the right things was," Sirius offered.

"That's the thing," Regulus said. "I always knew. You were the one who showed me."

Sirius had to look away at the implication. He'd always been able to align himself against the core ideas of anything that violated what was good and pure, but few would say he'd earned the title of a good man. Sirius indulged in his whims. He let emotions steer his path. He was hot-headed and sometimes cruel. He had no qualms being instrumental in helping bad things happen to bad people. In fact, he'd made a career out of it. Staring down the dark hallway, he admitted to himself that if Remus hadn't needed rescuing from Griff, Sirius probably would've killed him. But his rage from the sudden revelation of betrayal wasn't as intense as his concern for Remus. Thank Merlin for that.

"I'm no saint," he said, turning back to Regulus.

To his credit, Regulus nodded like he understood the weight of Sirius' words. "We don't have to be saints to make a difference."

"Look, Regulus," Sirius started, suddenly intent on vocalising an apology to his brother. But voices carried from the end of the hall and interrupted his thoughts. Remus and James approached them with solemn faces.

Sirius' pulse quickened at the sight. He wasn't sure if it was an involuntary reaction to the intensity of the situation, or if it was that Remus looked more at ease than he'd ever seen him. Was it Dumbledore? Being back at Hogwarts? _Potter?_ There was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. From the way his shoulders relaxed to the way he stepped toward him, there was something different about Remus. Sirius kicked himself and wished he'd read Remus' letter from Dumbledore. He wondered if it had been about the teaching position Lily had mentioned earlier, and all at once, Sirius was keen to know if Remus really wanted the job.

Potter shared an affirmative look with Regulus and then focused on Sirius. "Your story checks out," he said, nodding, "And we've sent an owl to MoWMA headquarters. The Vice-Chancellor confirms that Maven Griffstone is facing charges of Treachery of the Highest Order, Misuse of Intelligence and Unlawful Detention. But he's in the wind."

"Fantastic," Sirius clapped his hands. Relief and vindication washed over him. The Ministry, _his_ Ministry, had been such a huge part of his life. But the recent events had broken something within him and he no longer possessed his former loyalty or attachment to the institution. Griffstone’s betrayal had taken that sense of belonging from him, and he suspected he wouldn’t be able to get it back. His job was the last of his worries though. "Now if you'll excuse us,” he smiled, “Remus and I have a plan to get this thing off or kill me trying. Just because Griffstone has been found out, doesn't mean he isn't lurking out there, waiting for me to resurface. Knowing Griff, he still has a buyer."

"Wait," Potter raised his hand. "You have to come with us to the Ministry." When Sirius tilted his head, Potter added, "The Ministry of Magic in London."

Sirius contended, "I have no problem heading down there. When all this is over, I can give you whatever you need."

"We need you at the Ministry. That's the only place we can get a handle on the situation." Potter's eyes looked sincere. His open stance indicated his honest intentions.

Realising his situation now involved more people than he'd ever intended, Sirius decided he could partially concede to Potter demands. "Alright, Potter. But I'd feel more comfortable going to the Ministry having taken off the necklace first."

"We have more resources there. No offense," he turned to Remus and shrugged. "But the Department of Mysteries is bound to be able to do something. This sort of thing is what they do every day."

"I sure hope not," Sirius laughed. "No, it's settled. Remus and I will figure it out here. No offense, _Deputy Head Auror_. But I wouldn't trust some fumbling Unspeakable to shine my silver, let alone get this damned thing off my neck."

"Fine," Potter rolled his eyes. "But we're helping you bring this bastard down." He glanced at Regulus and then back to Sirius. "Don't even think about doing this alone, Black."

Sirius smiled and felt a tinge of pride as he wondered if Potter meant him or Reg. _Both,_ possibly. _Probably._ Either way, Potter obviously wanted the case, and Sirius couldn't blame him. Bringing down the rogue Head Maven of MoWMA would probably top even the most decorated resume. It would be a nice trophy for an Auror trainee as well.

"Would that I could." Sirius grabbed at his chest an admitted, "But I think you'll find I'm the stray that won't stay away." Remus chuckled. When their eyes met, Sirius bit his lip.

Remus took a step toward him and said, "With that out of the way, I think I know a Charms classroom we can use." He nodded at Sirius and then turned to Potter. "There's no way to know how long this might take, James. You might want to get some rest."

"You know, I think I'll sneak down to the dungeons and see my wife," Potter grinned, his tone lighter, almost mischievous. "The kids are at Frank and Alice's."

"I'll stay with these two," Regulus offered.

Potter parted ways with them on a stairwell near the Charms corridor, a bit of a rush in his step. Sirius smirked as he watched him disappear around a corner.

When Remus led them into a musty classroom, he lit the room with a wave of one hand and moved the desks to the back of the room with the other. The sudden and confident use of wandless magic stopped Sirius in his tracks.

"Sirius?" Remus looked at him expectantly.

Sirius strode forward. "I'm sorry?"

"I asked if you could get out the journals," Remus explained.

Nodding, Sirius pulled out the shrunken items and laid them on the empty desk at the front of the room. He pulled out his wand and cast, " _Engorgio_!" returning them to their original size. Regulus stepped forward and inquired how he could help, and Sirius stepped back, watching and listening to Remus as he took charge.

Before Sirius knew it, Remus had commissioned Reg to write on the chalkboard. They divided columns by categories of curses, identified through their schools of magic or origin. The pair of them traded ideas back and forth as Remus flipped through his journals, occasionally finding something in the pages worth putting on the board. Regulus responded with animated questions, hanging on Remus' every word, transcribing notes and not even hiding his admiration of Remus' work. Sirius was thrilled the two of them got on so well.

When the subject turned to vampires and compulsion, Sirius decided to chime in. "It's more than likely my ancestors saw what the vampires were doing to their familiars and decided it was a perfect way to control their more troublesome offspring."

"It's hard to say," Remus nodded. "The sharing of information between wizards and the rest of magic kind drastically changed after the Statute of Secrecy was enacted."

"What do you have on the objects they use?" Regulus asked.

"It's mostly theory," Remus explained as he flipped through the journals, "Because the proliferation of vampires in gothic Muggle literature changed the nature of their relationships with humankind. These stories pushed the average person to either astounding fear or unbridled intrigue."

"Three guesses which one tastes better," Sirius muttered. Vampires put on airs and cultivated their sexual appeal simply because arousal made for more delicious food.

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius and continued, "The rise of vampire lore in Muggle consciousness negated the need for the compulsion relics."

Sirius shook his head. "So basically, we still have no idea what to do."

"I wouldn't say that," Remus offered him a smile. "Why don't you two keep at it, look through my notes. I'm going to raid the Restricted Section and see if I can find what we need."

Leaving Regulus and Sirius with his journals, Remus was gone for over an hour. He returned with a stack of eight books in his arms and a stack of more than ten levitating behind him.

"Merlin," Sirius cursed. Remus set the stacks on the desk, picked out one of the books, and handed it to Sirius. "What's this?" he asked.

Remus smiled, "Merlin's _Treatise on the Effects of Magical Intervention in the Cranium_. How's your Medieval Latin?"

"I have to be honest, Moony," Sirius grinned. He flipped open the book and glanced through its worn yellow pages, a mild distraction from the surge of arousal that Remus' playful lilt had caused. "There's something positively filthy about the way you say _Medieval Latin_."

Leaning against the desk, Remus stared down at him with a coy expression. "You should hear me recite fabled stories of the Persian Magi."

"Can we stay on task, please?" Regulus interjected, a pained expression on his features. "And keep the scholarly foreplay to a minimum while I'm in the room."

Sirius winked at his brother and then attempted to read the book. The three of them sat in silence for hours, picking through the various books. Occasionally one would mention something they'd found, note it on the board, and then return to researching. Sirius fell asleep twice. The first time, he’d woken himself up with his own snores and pretended to flip through the book in front of him to cover up the noise. The second time, the bang of a book on a desk startled him awake.

Regulus strode to the board and began scribbling something in— _Greek?_ It was some sort of incantation.

"Yes," Remus nodded. He grabbed a piece of chalk and started translating it on the other side of the board. "This is good, Regulus. This might be it."

Sirius perked up. "What's that?"

"It's a counter-incantation to disarm a charmed diadem gifted to a human from Himeros." Remus explained, "Himeros was a lower deity of love."

"Unrequited love," Regulus added.

Remus paused his translation in the middle of a word. "This is strange," he furrowed his brows. "Only another—" he glanced at Regulus' script. "—of the same class?"

Regulus crossed an arm over his stomach and grabbed his chin with his free hand, twisting his face in a thoughtful expression. "Perhaps it meant same breed or same distinction." He snapped his fingers. "Or level of magic. Only _another diety_ could remove it. The object only responds to a particular type of caster. The same as the one who initiated it."

Scanning Regulus' Greek transcription again, some sort of realisation took over Remus' features. Then he burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Regulus frowned.

Remus tossed his chalk down and smiled. "How fortunate, Sirius, that your own _blood_ showed up to arrest you."

"I don't follow," Sirius shook his head. He got up from the desk and stood between the two of them. "How is a Greek god of love going to help with this?"

"Maybe if I…" Regulus raised his hands and grabbed the pendant, lifting it a few inches to stare at it. He glanced at Remus' translation and read the last two lines aloud. " _The task is complete, I bid thee prostrate._ " Taking a breath, Regulus moved to lift the chain over Sirius' head.

Sirius' breath hitched as he felt the weight of the metal leave his neck or the first time in almost fifteen years. His vision blurred with tears, his heart pounded in his chest, and he tumbled backwards, unable to stand as the rush of various emotions flooded his system. Remus caught him and held him up in a warm half embrace.

"It's alright," he whispered against Sirius' neck. “I’ve got you.”

Once his eyes could focus again, Sirius watched Regulus set The Breath of the Lucky on the desk. He pulled something small from inside his robes and cast a spell enlarging it, revealing an odd sort of cauldron made from a black material Sirius couldn't identify. Regulus lifted the lid and tossed the necklace inside.

Regulus replaced the lid and lowered his wand to the cauldron. In a low voice he cast, " _Maledictus casus ignis!_ "

Something rumbled under the lid of the cauldron. Regulus quickly leaned over it and held down the top. The room pulsed with a wave of intense heat. Sirius stepped toward his brother, worry welling up in his throat, but Regulus caught his gaze and shook his head. After a few more seconds of loud roars and bursts of warmth, Regulus stepped back and aimed his wand at the cauldron again.

" _Finis fiendfyre! In tenebris mortis!_ " he shouted, and a silver beam shot out of his wand and into the cauldron. It rattled around atop the desk for a few more seconds until the lid blew off and landed in the far corner of the room. Regulus lowered his hand into the steaming cauldron and pulled out the necklace.

Remus had been gripping Sirius the whole time but finally let go, taking a step toward Regulus. "Was that fiendfyre?"

Regulus nodded.

"What did you do?" Sirius asked as he wiped a layer of sweat from his brow.

"I removed all its magic," Regulus explained, handing the necklace to Sirius. The cool metal hit his palm and sent a shiver up his arm. It felt good after the heat he'd just been exposed to. Sirius stared up at Regulus with wide eyes while his brother returned his silence with a smug smile. "It's not my first cursed necklace."

Remus stepped toward him and pointed his wand at the pendant, casting a Probing Charm. “Merlin,” he said in quiet amazement. "You actually did it.”

While Sirius observed Remus’ examination of the necklace, Regulus cast a Patronus informing Auror Potter of their success. Sirius turned and caught sight of the silvery raven just as it flew out of the room. Somehow the form of his brother’s patronus wasn’t what surprised him, but Regulus’ clarity and execution of the charm itself. While Sirius had a handful of cherished memories that helped him cast the spell, his own Patronus lacked definition. It served its purpose but not convincingly. He found a small pinch of comfort, and maybe pride, in the fact that Reg could cast such an impressive Patronus Charm. It meant somewhere in his life, he’d been truly happy.

“Now,” Regulus crossed his arms. Sirius blinked and focused his attention on his brother. Reg eyed him thoughtfully, “We just need to tempt that bastard out into the open. Any idea who his potential buyers were?”

Sirius shook his head. “I could make a few suggestions, but I didn’t get that far. I was concentrating on staying hidden.” He gulped. “Staying alive.”

“What if,” Remus licked his lips, and Sirius couldn’t help but stare. Remus met his gaze and smiled then turned to Regulus and continued, “What if you’re the buyer?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Regulus said.

Remus started pacing. Sirius catalogued the expressions flashing across his face, unable to peel his eyes away. Remus was sexy when he was thinking. Not that he noticed Sirius’ appreciative gaze.

Remus continued. “Who else knows you’re an Auror?”

“Pfft,” Sirius shook his head. “I’m sure it’s the talk of the Ministry. _A Black_ in law enforcement! Imagine the scenes.”

“Actually,” Regulus smiled, “I didn’t go to the Academy. I was a conditional hire,” he waved his hand and walked to the desk. He picked up a parchment and quill and started scribbling. “You could say I was deputised. The Head Auror, his secretary, and Potter are the only ones who know I’m employed with the Ministry. Everyone else has only seen me a handful of times and suspect I’m a C.I., if they suspect anything at all.”

“Perfect.” Remus walked over and started reading over his shoulder. He pointed to something on the parchment. “That’s good. Perhaps you should add something about the whole of the Black fortune. You’ll do anything to get your family’s priceless heirloom back from the—” Remus eyed Sirius and winked, “—blood traitor.”

Regulus snorted. “Yes, that sounds about right.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius stepped toward them and craned his neck, attempting to read the notes. “But why would Griffstone meet with you if he’s already got someone lined up? He’s going to believe you just somehow know he has the necklace?”

Remus replied, “We’ve blown his cover with MoWMA. This is his last chance to use his influence for a sale. He’ll be desperate.”

“The temptation to get more for the necklace will be too great,” Regulus added. “Especially if I insist on doubling the current offer.”

“Even if he were that careless, that’s all well and good, but how on earth would you—” Then it hit him. “You want to use me as bait.”

Regulus threw up a finger and shook his head. “I’m sure there’s another way.”

“There is” came a voice from the door. James Potter strode into the room, a smug expression plastered across his face. Sirius couldn’t be sure if he’d missed it before, but Potter’s hair was an untidy mess. As he stepped closer, Sirius couldn’t stop himself from commenting on the state of it.

“When will the hippogriff that nests in your hair return?” Sirius smirked. “I have a soft spot for them but I’ve never met one of the marvelous creatures.”

Potter tilted his head. “I’m sure it will arrive at any moment...accompanied by the wet dog whose scent is currently saturating the room.”

Remus burst into a fit of laughter. After a moment’s hesitation, Sirius joined him. “Alright, Potter,” Sirius conceded, rolling his eyes and pointing to the parchment in Potter’s hand. “What’s the plan then?”

Smiling at him, Potter replied, “I’ve just got word that Griffstone was spotted in Hogsmeade.”

“How did he track me?” Sirius shook his head in disbelief.

“Hmm… Not sure?,” Potter furrowed his brows. “Could it have been the large, black, flying motorcycle you were spotted on over Leeds?”

“Yeah,” Sirius blinked. “That might have been it.” Regulus shot him a incredulous look. “What?” Sirius said defensively. “I like mechanical things! And I’m really good with Charms!”

“Yes, well, the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office will be in contact, I’m sure.” Potter unfolded the parchment. “Dumbledore—Aberforth Dumbledore, that is—spotted him at the Hog’s Head.” He turned to Regulus, “If you can get down there and catch him before he leaves, we might have a chance of pulling this off.”

Sirius frowned. “You expect him to just waltz in and proposition Griff? He’s going to know something’s wrong the minute Reg approaches him.”

“That’s why Regulus won’t approach him,” Potter smiled. “Aberforth is still under the impression that Regulus is part of the Dark Wizard Underground. The last time he tried to go in, Aberforth screamed at him and kicked him out.”

“If he’s identified as a dark wizard and as a Black,” Remus followed, “Griffstone might come to Regulus.”

“It’s too risky,” Sirius shook his head. He didn’t want to put his little brother in danger. “It’s too much of a coincidence, me being here and then Reg showing up. Griff will see right through it.”

Regulus started unbuttoning his Auror robes. “I can do this,” he urged. “It’s what I’ve been doing since I was fifteen years old. Honestly, Sirius,” he pulled off his robes, revealing a finely fitted blue collared shirt and black trousers. “While you were tinkering with Muggle parts and Charms, and off doing Merlin knows what, I was actually undercover with some very dangerous people. This is gobstones to that.”

“It’s settled,” Potter clapped. “We’ll use the passage to Honeyduke’s.” Sirius noticed when Remus met Potter’s gaze, an unspoken conversation seemed to transpire between the two. “Black,” Potter said, tearing his eyes away from Remus. “ _Sirius_ , I mean. You can meet us at the Ministry later this morning at your convenience.”

“What?” Sirius cried. “No, I’m coming with you.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Potter said. “And utterly against protocol.”

 

“Has any of this followed protocol?” Sirius said snidely and raised his chin.

Potter narrowed his eyes. “You’ll have until noon. If you don’t come in,” Potter turned to Remus, “We’ll issue another warrant.”

“See you later, brother,” Regulus waved and followed Potter out of the classroom in a rush. Sirius stood, staring at the empty doorway dumbfounded.

“Finally,” Remus walked over and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck. He caught his gaze and smiled. “This is the first time I’ve had you alone without that dreadful necklace.”

Sirius leaned away and glanced back at the door. “Remus, do you know the passage he’s taking? Can we follow them?”

“Sirius.”

“What? You think I’m just going to let my brother throw himself at the mercy of that—”

Remus grabbed his chin and pulled Sirius’ face close to his own. “Yes.”

“You don’t know me very well,” Sirius whispered, staring into Remus brown eyes.

“All things considered, having met you about fourteen hours ago, I’d say I know you well enough,” Remus said, letting go of his face and moving his hand up to card his fingers through Sirius’s hair.

Sirius closed his eyes and leaned into the touch as the warm sensation softened his resolve. “Is that so?” After a few moments, he realised what Remus was doing and grabbed his hand. Opening his eyes, he stated, “You can’t distract me from this, Remus. I need to finish what Griff started.”

“Merlin, that necklace was the real deal.” Remus sighed, pulling away.

 

“How do you mean?”

Remus chuckled and walked over to the desk, closing the open books and stacking them on top of each other. “You haven’t said a single thing I’ve wanted to hear since it was removed.”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius’ heart sank. There was a bit of hurt and confusion etched on Remus’ face, and coupled with his hunched over, disappointed stance, Sirius’ willpower finally broke.

He grabbed Remus’ shoulder tenderly. "I wish you could've known me before the pendant. I wish we had the opportunity before I put it on. Before this whole thing got out of hand."

"So, first year?" Remus smirked. “When we were eleven?”

“We were kids! But can you imagine, Moony!” Sirius bit his lip. “Us, together? Growing up?"

Remus laughed, "The world wouldn't have survived."

Sirius leaned in and stole a brief kiss. When he pulled away, Remus gave him a soft, sultry look. “Don’t,” Sirius said and pulled away.

“Don’t?” Remus repeated. “Don’t look at you? And why shouldn’t I?”

“If you keep looking at me like that—”

“Oh I like where this is headed.” Remus grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers. “What are you worried about?”

Sirius chuckled. “This very moment? Losing control and taking you on that desk, children’s school be damned.” He turned back and met Remus’ eyes. “I’m just—this is—” He took a breath to steady himself. “You are fantastic, and I want to see where this goes...”

Remus frowned. “But?”

“My life has been turned upside down. I’m a mess. What am I supposed to do now?” Sirius shook his head. “I can’t go back to what I was before. Not now. But being this way…” He put his free hand to his chest, feeling around in the space where the necklace used to sit. The weight was gone but he still felt something weighing him down. “The things that I’ve done, Remus—that’s all I know how to be.”

Remus took a step closer. “A wise man once told me _‘A thing can be two things.’_ ” He smiled and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist. “As soon as Griffstone is in custody, you can resign.”

Sirius pouted. “And then what? How will I earn a living? I have a very select set of skills.”

“It will all work out,” Remus sighed and nuzzled into Sirius’ neck.

“I’m sorry, how is that?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled. He kissed Sirius’ neck. “It’s a mystery. One I’m heavily invested in solving.”

A shiver running up his spine, Sirius reached up and cupped Remus’ face. “Is that so, Professor Lupin?”

“I haven’t taken the job,” Remus stilled.

“But you’re going to,” Sirius smiled. He leaned forward and brushed his lips again Remus’ in a light kiss.

“You know that, do you?”

“I know that you come alive in this place,” Sirius said. “Your eyes light up when you’re deep in academic discourse” he said, his warm against Remus’ ear. “It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Remus kissed him deeply. “Hmm,” he said, lips moving against Sirius’ cheek. “You need to get out more.” He stood up straighter and took a step back, his hands smoothing the fabric of his suit, and Sirius suspected, willing his erection to subside. Sirius did the same.

“Would that they’d let me,” Sirius grinned. He glanced around.

“Should we clean up in here and then head out?”

Sirius hesitated.

Eyeing him, Remus sighed. “I can finish up in here if you want to go.”

“Remus—”

“Some things you have to do on your own,” he replied. “I understand that.” He bit his lip and looked up thoughtfully. “You go on. I need to speak with the headmaster about a job anyway.”

Smiling, Sirius flew forward and kissed him goodbye, finding it difficult to pull away. After several minutes and stifled moans, Remus pushed Sirius back and toward the door. “If you don’t leave now…”

Sirius laughed, “I know, Moony.” He squeezed his hand. “I’ll be back soon.”

-/-

Sirius welcomed the solitude, but missed the warmth of Remus’ eyes and the comfort of his smile. Was he really that gone on him? It felt like they’d know each other for ages rather than just a whirlwind day. When he was with Remus, that feeling of freedom crept back. But walking alone to the shack, the heavy truths seemed to creep back into his mind.

The necklace was gone. He should be happy. But suddenly Sirius was plagued with thoughts of inadequacy. What if the necklace was all he was? It had been a part of him for so long, he wasn’t sure who he was without it.

When he got back to the Shrieking Shack and readied his bike, the nagging thoughts dissipated. His pulse raced with anticipation, adrenaline, the pull of flight and freedom and the promise of a fresh start. Sirius took off and lost himself in the light of the new day. Up there, he didn’t have to be anything. He didn’t have to have the answers. There was no darkness at his heels, no missions looming over his head, and no weight of all the things he couldn’t say.

For the first time, he was flying free. Having the answers didn’t matter. Between his reunion with Regulus and the hope of things to come with Remus, Sirius’ mind raced with pleasant thoughts of the future. He would quit MoWMA, of that he was sure. His only worry then became the shadow of idleness and the threat of languishing boredom.

 _“It will all work out,”_ Remus had said. Sirius smiled as he began his descent into London toward the Ministry rooftop. Remus was right. Everything was going to be fine. As he concentrated on the landing, he chuckled to himself. Maybe the Ministry was hiring.

When the tires hit the roof, an alarm sounded, and within seconds half a dozen officials had swarmed him.

“Sir,” a frowning woman with a raised hawthorne wand said, “get off the—get off the mechanised carriage and keep your hands up.”

“Yes, of course,” Sirius smiled and complied with the request.

“Why are you here?”

“Surely you don’t think I should’ve landed _in front_ of the building?” Sirius raised a brow. The woman returned his cheerful look with an even deeper frown. “I’m here by request of Deputy Head Auror James Potter,” Sirius clarified, somewhat wounded that he failed to charm the official. A sinking feeling of doubt crept into his consciousness as he realized it could be a result of not having the necklace.

The woman blinked. “If you’ll follow me, I will escort you to his office. He’s been expecting you, Mr Black.”

Trailing after the petite woman, Sirius tried in vain to make her smile. He complimented her wand stance and even stooped so low as to point out the pretty shade of her pale blue eyes, but to no avail. She barely acknowledged his existence as they rode the elevator to level two, and after leading him into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s main office, the woman pointed to a chair in the lobby and walked away.

“For fuck’s sake,” Sirius breathed and sat dejectedly in the worn leather chair. The waiting room smelled like cigarette smoke and burnt parchment. He wasn’t sure what that was a sign of, and he was too distracted to think on how bizarre it was. Suddenly his confidence had evaporated and the familiar doubts flooded his thoughts. What if the necklace had been the root of all his success? What if the charm and liveliness that he’d cultivated had all been a result of The Breath of the Lucky?

“Hey brother,” Regulus waved his hand in front of Sirius’ face.

Sirius jumped up. “Reg, you’re alright?”

He smiled. “I’m fine. And Griffin de la Torre has been apprehended. Not only is he facing charges related to your case, but we got him on the smuggling of dark materials and theft of Ministry property.”

“That’s great,” Sirius said, trying to smile.

“What’s wrong?” Regulus pushed. Sitting down next to him, he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t lie, you’re upset when you should be thrilled.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “You’re going to make a great Auror.”

“Your accurate and appreciated praise will not distract me.” Regulus sighed. “Is this about Remus?”

“Merlin! No,” Sirius grabbed his legs to his chest. “I mean, maybe? Partially? This is about _everything_ , okay? I have no idea what I’m going to do now.”

Reg shook his head. “You’re quitting MoWMA? Shit, I owe Potter fifty galleons.”

Sirius’ mouth fell open.

“What?” Regulus scoffed.

“You bet on me?”

“Last time I’ll ever do it,” his brother glared. He grabbed Sirius’ knee and squeezed. “Look, you don’t have to know what’s next. Take it from me, as long as you act on what’s in your heart, you’ll eventually end up where you need to be.”

Sirius gulped.

“And you’ve got all that money Uncle Alphard left you, so you know, there’s that as a fallback.” Regulus burst out laughing. “Mother almost died when they read his will.”

“Uncle Alphard?” Sirius repeated.

Regulus nodded. “He always loved your honesty and charm.”

Sirius’ chest swelled with rare familial affection, pride, and a bit confidence. He was more than just some necklace. “You know,” he managed to smile. “Something will come to me.”

A few minutes later, Potter joined them. They went to his office where Sirius made an official statement. The longer he spent with Potter, the more he begrudgingly ended up liking him. No longer under the scrutiny of those hazel eyes, Sirius felt a bit of camaraderie with him. After a few minutes of shared stories in which Sirius accidentally admitted to causing at least three international incidents, Potter reined in his smile and fixed him with a pointed stare.

“You’re alright, Sirius,” he admitted. “But if you hurt Moony, I’ll end you.”

“Moony?” Sirius blinked. Had he accidentally said the nickname out loud at some point?

“It’s what we called him in school, because—” Potter’s eyes widened and he closed his mouth.

Sirius grinned. “He’s a werewolf? Yeah.” He leaned forward, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this but I’m an unregistered Animagus. I’ve run with werewolves before on the full moon, and I can’t wait to let loose with him on the next one.”

Potter paled.

“What?” Sirius panicked.

“It’s just,” he started, holding his face in a neutral expression, “that’s what we do with him…” He grinned. “Me, Lily, Alice, and Frank.” He leaned in and whispered, “We’re unregistered Animagi, have been since school. We did it to be there for Remus during the full moon.”

Sirius searched his memory, tracking back to the conversation Remus had with Lily Potter. “Prongs,” he said and stared at James Potter’s hair. “Porcupine?”

“Stag,” he replied flatly.

“How magisterial,” Sirius smiled.

James trailed his gaze over Sirius’ form. “Dog?”

Smiling wider, Sirius nodded.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

They laughed and Sirius bit his lip. “If you wouldn’t object, I’d like to join you on the next full moon. It would mean a lot to me.” He leaned forward and added, “Remus means a lot to me.”

“I—” Potter started but an interdepartmental memo came flying into his office and landed on his desk. He opened and scanned it. “You came here on the flying motorcycle?” he said with exasperation and a hint of amusement. He lowered the message and shook his head. “They confiscated it and require your presence in Misuse of Muggle Artefacts.”

“Merlin, you have an entire department for that?” Sirius gaped.

Potter shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Not everyone who enchants Muggle items has the ease or care to handle them as well as you.”

“Honestly,” Sirius muttered, “It took several dozens tries and I sort of destroyed my cousin’s shed in the process of learning how to fly that thing.”

Blinking at him, Potter shooed him out. “Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that. Look, it’s down the hall and to the right. Go see what they need and then get out of here.”

“Sure thing, Potter,” he smiled and headed for the door.

“James—” he met Sirius’ eyes and smiled. “Call me James.”

“James, then. Thanks for the help.” Sirius nodded and then ducked out before Potter could say anything else. He wanted to push aside the feelings of fellowship that had risen to the surface during their conversation, but something about James Potter had calmed his nerves.

He thought about it as he made his way out of the Auror Department and down the long hall to the rest of the offices on level two. Remus had great friends growing up, Sirius decided. He allowed himself a bit of envy in that regard. Maybe they could be his friends too. It would be something entirely new for him to forge relationships without the pendant’s influence, but his conversation with Potter—James—was a good starting point.

There it was again—hope.

Something bigger surged through him as he thought about Remus and all he could be for him. As he approached the open door to the Office of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, Sirius couldn’t help the swell of feelings in his heart.

Then he remembered his motorcycle had been confiscated and his mood deflated. He’d have to summon all the charm he could to get out of this one. He entered the office with a large smile and was greeted by a tall man with flaming red hair.

“Hello,” the man frowned. “Sirius Black?”

“That’s the one,” Sirius nodded.

“I see,” the man pursed his lips and grabbed a thick file from the counter. “This way, please.”

He led Sirius through a doorway and into a small office filled with random, innocuous Muggle items. The man sat behind a desk and flipped through the file. He pulled out a photograph and flashed it at Sirius’ face. It was a picture of the Suffolk skyline at dusk and when he squinted, Sirius could make out his motorcycle on the horizon.

The man asked, “Is that your Muggle device?”

“Yes.”

The man squinted. “Is it the same one you landed on the roof of this building?”

Sirius smiled. “The very same.”

The man inhaled dramatically, his eyes widening in the process. He exhaled quickly and then slammed the file shut.

“My name is Arthur Weasley,” he finally smiled. "Mr Black, have you ever heard of a Ford Anglia?"


End file.
